The Shooting (2 page)

Brady wasn’t going to let that happen. He told his dad he’d guard it with his life. His dad had grinned and chucked him under the chin and said he hoped it didn’t come to that. Brady hoped it wouldn’t either, but he wasn’t afraid to die. People died all the time. He only needed to spend a few minutes on
GTA V
to work that out.

Killing someone was easy.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
And they were dead. Just like that. Easy
.
Just ask Michael or Franklin or Trevor.
Just ask Brady Sutton.

CHAPTER ONE

Chatswood Elementary School, Sydney—present day

Hannah Sutton tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. The spring break was over and the final term of the school year had begun. She was hoping it would be better than the previous three, but from the length of the printout of disciplinary reports entered into the computer system over the last few days, this term promised to be just as trying as the others.

As Deputy Principal of Chatswood Elementary School, one of her jobs was to oversee discipline. In a school with enrolments well over five hundred kids, it was no mean task. Today was no different. With the weather warming up and many more outdoor activities on offer during their breaks, Hannah expected a decline in the number of fights and petty misunderstandings. Weren’t the kids too busy fielding a ball or scoring a goal to bother with arguing?

She glanced at the printout and sighed again. Apparently not.
Including her son, if the reports about his behavior were to be believed. She shook her head and fought against the wave of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Ever since she’d kicked Colin out, it had been an uphill battle every step of the way. Not that Brady resented her for asking his dad to leave. In fact, she thought her son was probably happier now that all the fighting had stopped. She was certain their life had taken a turn for the better, even if it meant it was just her and Brady braving it alone.

But being a single parent wasn’t for the fainthearted and as much as she was glad she didn’t have to deal with Colin’s petty jealousies and insecurities any longer, having another adult around to help with the parenting responsibilities had certainly made life a little easier. She and Colin had been separated for nearly a year. Neither of them had taken steps to make it official, but it was more from a lack of time on Hannah’s part rather than any inclination to once again try and find a way to make things work.

The night Colin hit her, she’d vowed never to let him near her again. As far as she was concerned it was the one and only time it would ever happen. She’d ordered him out of the house there and then and had collected Brady from his bed upstairs and had filed a report at the police station the very same night. The humiliation of having to recite the details of the assault to a perfect stranger would never be forgotten, but her actions had the desired effect and for that, she was grateful.

Colin was charged and a restraining order put in place and they’d managed to live their lives in relative peace. She’d allowed her husband access to his son, but only when he was stone-cold sober and she made sure she never found herself alone with him. It seemed to work and over the months, they’d formed a fragile truce. Sometimes, she even missed him.

With an impatient sound in the back of her throat, she pushed the foolish thought aside and collected the file on the top of the pile on her desk.
Roland Hall
. He was a well known visitor to her office and for all the wrong reasons. The twelve-year-old had been on suspension for fighting with another student and threatening him with obscene language. Right now, he and his parents were waiting outside to meet with her and go through his re-entry interview. No doubt, it would prove tiresome, as usual.

She stood and took a moment to adjust her tailored jacket and skirt. She touched the sensible bun at the back of her neck and then opened the door to her office.

“Mr and Mrs Hall, Roland. Please, come in.”

* * *

Brady Sutton snuck into the corridor, careful to keep the gun hidden behind his back. He’d timed his entry perfectly. The bell signifying the end of roll call had sounded twenty minutes earlier and most everyone was in class. The corridor was quiet and empty. All was going according to plan.

He’d woken that morning knowing today was the day he was going to make those cocksuckers pay. Just like the heroes of
GTA
, today he’d take control. He’d stride through the corridors and destroy his enemies. Ian Little was number one on his list.

For as long as Brady could remember, Ian had made every one of his elementary school years an agony to be endured. In the early days, it was minor stuff, like stealing his lunch box or hiding his school bag. Once, in the second grade, Ian had upended a whole tin of paint all over Brady’s shirt and then claimed it was an accident.

Over the years, the bullying escalated until it was downright hurtful. By then, Ian had recruited Russell and Cory. They all took delight in tormenting him. The beatings were a daily event. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being set upon in some utterly disgusting way.

Ian had been in Brady’s class since they’d both started school six years ago, despite his pleas to his mother that she use her influence to rearrange them. But she’d done nothing, telling him it was out of her control. She wasn’t in charge of curriculum or the structure of the classes, she’d said. That was Mrs Brian’s department.

In the end, he gave up asking.

But that was yesterday and all the other yesterdays. Today, he was going to make a few changes and set his own course to freedom. Maybe he’d blow Mrs Brian away, too.

Just like he did when he was playing
GTA
, Brady stealthily stalked his prey. According to his timetable, his Grade Five class was having music with Mrs Munro in the classroom at the end of the hall.

A momentary surge of regret flooded through him. He liked Mrs Munro. She was one of his favorite teachers. She and his mom were friends. Sometimes, they lunched together. He hoped she wouldn’t be too scared at the sight of Ian’s blood.

He’d emptied his school bag of everything. He wouldn’t need any workbooks today. His satchel now hung from his shoulder, with nothing in it save the box of ammunition. It was a shame the old .22 rifle wasn’t automatic, but he’d done what he could to compensate. He’d filled the clip to its hilt.

Ten bullets were in the magazine. He hoped it was enough. He’d brought along the box of spare ammunition, but there was no guarantee he’d have time to reload. He’d just have to make sure he made every shot count. Like he did during
GTA
.

If you lost concentration, you were dead. Game over. It was as simple as that.

* * *

Detective Senior Sergeant Tom Munro walked out of the tea room brandishing two fresh cups of coffee. The morning was early yet and all he could hope was that the day would be uneventful. His squad had attended more than their fair share of emergencies over the course of the past week. It was nice to sit around the squad room of the North Sydney Police Station and do nothing more than answer emails and the occasional phone call. Besides, it gave him time to think about his upcoming wedding anniversary and what gift he could possibly buy for his wife.

He’d been married to Lily for sixteen years. Together, they had two teenagers, a daughter and a son. They were good kids and Tom was proud of them. They both attended a high school in Chatswood, not far from their comfortable home and the elementary school where Lily worked. It was a good situation all round and most of the time Tom was content with how things had worked out.

If only Cassie wasn’t acting out…

He shook his head and pushed the thought aside. It was probably just part of the normal course into adulthood. At seventeen, she still had a lot to figure out, like Lily kept telling him. Determined not to dwell on it, he forced a smile and deposited one of the coffee cups on the desk of his partner and fellow police negotiator, Andy Warwick.

“Thanks, mate. Appreciate it. After the night I’ve had, I need that coffee like I need my next breath. It’s a matter of survival.”

This time, Tom’s grin was genuine. “Sounds pretty rough. Which one of the kids was sick?”

“No, it was Cally. She’s been laid low by a terrible flu. Was up and down all night. Painkillers, throat gargles, tissues. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, she was asking me to get something else. It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t pregnant. She can’t take anything stronger than paracetamol. I’m just relieved Jack and Grace don’t have it.”

Tom nodded in understanding. “I can still remember the years when Cassie and Joe were that young. It seemed like one or the other of them was always coming down with something.” He grimaced. “A by-product of attending a daycare center. It’s a hell of a way to build up your immune system.”

Andy grinned. “Yeah, you have that right. Throw in the fact that Cally’s teaching kindergarten and you have a fine old mix of germs coming into our household on a regular basis.”

“She’s over at Hornsby, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit longer commute than the last job, but she loves it over there. Is Lily still at Chatswood?”

“Yep. She’s been there since she finished college and even before. She did her teaching practicums there. The only way they’ll get her to leave is to carry her out of there in a pine box,” he joked.

The phone on Tom’s desk rang, interrupting their conversation. Tom set his coffee cup down and leaned over to answer it.

“Tom Munro.”

“This is dispatch. We’ve received an emergency call from Chatswood Elementary School regarding a possible shooting. Crews from Chatswood have already responded and an ambulance has also been called. Details are a little sketchy. At this stage, it’s not known if there are any injuries. They’re calling for a team of negotiators to deal with the shooter.”

Tom took down the details. By the time he hung up the phone, adrenaline was already pumping through him, elevating his heart rate. Andy took one look at him and his expression changed.

“What’s happened?”

“A possible shooting at Chatswood Elementary.”

Andy set his coffee cup down and headed toward the locker room, Tom close behind him. As if the thought had only just occurred to him, Andy came to a sudden halt and swung around. “Isn’t that where Lily—?”

Tom’s response was short. “Yes.”

Andy nodded once, his expression grim. “Right.”

“They’re vague on details. They don’t know if there are any injuries,” Tom added, aware that he was trying to convince himself as much as his partner.

“Right. Of course. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Andy continued on his direct course toward the locker room. Tom followed on his heels and sent up a silent, desperate prayer that his partner was right.

* * *

Tom and Andy stood outside the high fenced perimeter that surrounded a number of unappealing red brick buildings that made up Chatswood Elementary School. A half dozen uniformed officers were also on the scene. On a normal day, the silence that greeted them wouldn’t have seemed out of place—it was class time, after all. But knowing that something dreadful had gone down made the lack of noise and activity in the school yard eerie. It was almost as if everyone knew there was something very wrong at Chatswood Elementary. Tom thought of his wife and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

A sense of urgency held him taut. He had to get in there and find out what was going on. He had to get in there and find Lily. He’d tried her cell phone on the way over, but it had gone straight to voicemail. He tried not to read anything into that. She often had her phone switched off, especially when she was teaching. He took a deep breath and forced his pulse rate down.

The school was currently in lockdown, with nobody but emergency personnel allowed in or out. It was standard procedure during any kind of threat that the occupants of the building remained in their classes, sitting or lying down on the floor, as far away from the door as possible and no movement was allowed. Looking around at the crowd of police officers and other emergency personnel, he located the officer in charge of the scene and strode over to him.

Upon closer inspection, Tom recognized Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black from the State Crime Command based in Chatswood and offered him a muted greeting.

“Lane, what do we know?”

Lane glanced up and gave Tom a brief nod of greeting. “Tom. At this stage, we believe it’s a single shooter. An eleven-year-old kid in the fifth grade. He’s holding his class of about twenty-four students and a teacher hostage.”

Tom swallowed and did his best to keep the panic at bay. Lily taught the fifth grade. “Do we know who the staff member is?” he asked in a voice as steady as he could manage.

“Nope. We’re trying to track down the deputy. Apparently the principal is away at an inservice.”

“What about the shooter? Any word on him?”

“Only what we got second hand from some kid who was walking past the classroom, so nothing’s been confirmed. He told my partner the boy’s name is Brady something or other.” Lane looked up and called out to another plainclothes detective who stood a short distance away.

“Hey, Jett. Give us a sec, would you?”

A fit, young detective with dark hair and bright intelligent eyes moved closer to Lane. He nodded a greeting to Tom and then turned to Lane. “What is it, mate?”